


A Song of Time and Fire

by zorac



Series: Portland Ninja [5]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Life Is Strange: Before The Storm (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorac/pseuds/zorac
Summary: Max and Kate may be settling into married bliss, but life is never dull for the Portland Ninja — especially with a new superhero in town bringing an unexpected link to her past.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Kate Marsh, Victoria Chase/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Portland Ninja [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/767412
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did promise that the Portland Ninja would return… eventually.
> 
> I hope this finds you as safe and well as can be managed in our ongoing dumpster fire of a world.

###### Max

Dust clogs the air as I make my way through the broken remains of a building, lit only by small patches of fire and sporadic eruptions of sparks from the ruined electrics. I hear the faint cries of survivors somewhere up ahead of me, the echos of their voices sounding eerily familiar. A few minutes later, I find them, half-buried in the rubble, and I recognize every face. “Help us, Max!” they call, even as the ceiling above them gives way. I hold up my hand to stop it, but nothing happens. The avalanche of falling debris rushes towards me and –

I bolt awake, only the fact that I’m struggling to catch a breath stopping the scream from coming out.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” a voice says softly. Strong hands rest on my shoulders, and a familiar face swims into view, her expression concerned. I bury my face in the crook of Yasmin’s neck and sob, while she gently runs a hand up and down my back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

After a moment, I pull back to answer. “It was that gas explosion a couple of weeks back, except… you were there, and Kate, and Chloe, and my parents. You were all trapped, and my rewind wasn’t working, and… I couldn’t save any of you. Or myself. That’s when I woke up.”

“It wasn’t real,” Yasmin tells me firmly. “Not that part of it. We’re all still safe.”

“Chloe isn’t,” I whisper. “Kate wasn’t.”

“But she is now. Your wife is safe, even if she isn’t here. You can call her if you want, you know she won’t mind you waking her up.” I do seriously consider that, how reassuring it would be to hear her voice, but I don’t want to seem more pathetic than I already do.

“No, I’m alright. Bad enough that I disturbed your sleep.”

“It’s why I’m here.”

“I’m glad you are. Thanks,” I tell her.

“So you admit that Kate’s plan wasn’t completely ridiculous after all.”

“Yes, yes, she was right – as usual.” I give Yasmin a rueful grin that she probably can’t even see in the darkness. “The worst part is, she won’t even have the decency to be smug about it; at least then I could tease her for that.”

“But she won’t pull an ‘I told you so,’ either,” Yasmin points out.

“No,” I say fondly, “she’ll just be concerned, and want me to tell her that I’m okay.”

“And then she’ll drag you up here to make sure?” Yasmin suggests.

“Almost certainly,” I agree, and we both laugh. “Speaking of which, was Victoria really okay with you spending a few nights in another woman’s bed?”

“Mostly. She knows why, and she trusts us.”

“Plus she knows that _you_ know that she would literally kill you if you did anything.”

“Max! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry… that she would literally _hire_ someone to kill you if you did anything.”

“Much more like it.” We laugh again, and what tension was left dissipates. By unspoken agreement, we both lie back down. My hand reaches across the bed to find Yasmin’s.

“Thanks again for being here,” I tell her, “after years of Kate doing that for me, I’m not sure how I’d have coped alone.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Yasmin says, “and she’ll be back from her conference in a few days. You can tell her how right she was then.”

I give Yasmin’s hand a last squeeze, then roll over to go back to sleep.

Next morning, I’m the first to wake up, so I decide to thank Yasmin in the best way I know; the pancake batter is ready to go when she stumbles blearily out of the bedroom carrying her wash bag.

“’m gonna grab a quick shower,” she mumbles.

“Okay, breakfast should be ready when you’re done.”

True to my word, there are a couple of pancake stacks and a pot of coffee on the table when Yasmin returns. Wearing nothing but a towel, one that – whilst keeping her decent – leaves an awful lot of flesh on display. I hadn’t appreciated just how toned she is until now. Yasmin smirks, and I realize that I’m staring; with heated cheeks, I look away.

“Like what you see?” she says archly, and I look back to see her coming toward the table with a slow, sultry walk.

“You are a bad, bad woman,” I tell her, earning me a laugh as she sits down, making sure that the towel stays in place. “And, yes, I’d have to be blind now to see how hot you are, but… what’s with the flirting, Yasmin? Are things not going well with you and Victoria?”

She shakes her head. “No, quite the reverse actually.”

“Then why the sudden come-on?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. It’s like… I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this relationship to end up like the last two.”

“So, what? You’re going for a little self-sabotage? Hurt her before she can hurt you? I’m not going to help you do that.”

“No, I… I’m sorry, Max. It’s not like I think that Vic would do that to me… but then, I didn’t think that Mel or Ivy would, either.”

“Look, I may not be the world’s biggest fan of Victoria, but I really don’t think she would ever cheat on you. Not her style; She’d at least dump you by text message first.”

“Not helpful, Max.”

“I’ve also seen the way she looks at you. Heard the way she talks about you. Girl got it _bad_.”

“You don’t think I’m being idiot about this?”

“No. I think that a couple of people you cared about really hurt you, and you’ve built yourself a protective shell to stop that from happening again. Victoria’s cracked that shell some, maybe even broken it completely, and that’s scary. All perfectly understandable. It doesn’t mean that something bad is going to happen.”

Yasmin looks at me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “You’re right. Damn, you’re actually pretty good at this.”

“Kate would’ve done a better job; or Izzy, she’s the professional.”

“Maybe, but they’re both out of town. I’m good with you, anyway.”

“Um, thanks. Anyway we should eat before it gets cold.” Yasmin looks at me for a moment, then gives me a small nod, and picks up her fork.

A few minutes later, she drops another little bomb on me. “So, I think there might be another person with superpowers in town.”

“Er… what?”

“A couple of times in the last few days, I’ve been at fires that were… wrong; where it seemed like something – or someone – was controlling the flames.”

“What, like supernatural arson?” I ask, alarmed. Yasmin shakes her head.

“The opposite; more like the fire was being held back, forced to shrink rather than grow, even extinguished. And one time, a fireball exploded out of a window towards another firefighter, and it was as if it just hit an invisible wall before the fire got to him.”

“Whoever this person is, they seem to be going for hero rather than villain, then?”

“Yeah. I kinda want to meet them.”

“What? Having one superhero friend isn’t enough for you now?” I ask with mock outrage.

“I’m just curious,” Yasmin says with a laugh. “Aren’t you?”

“I guess I am, at that.”

* * *

I get to experience it first hand a few days later, when my police scanner leads me to a fire in a small apartment building. It’s hard for me to gauge the fire’s progression as I move backwards and forwards through time, but I do get a sense of flames inexplicably receding. And then comes a moment where I see them being sucked out of a window, only to vanish completely, leaving nothing more than smoldering embers behind. I mention this to Yasmin when I run into her after the building has been cleared, and the fire is under control.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” she says. “No way was that natural. Someone’s out there, controlling it.”

“Does seem likely,” I agree. “I don’t suppose they’re going to show themself, though, but…” I trail off as I feel a weird tingling sensation; it’s as if I can tell that someone’s watching me. Slowly, I turn to look up at the roof of a building across the street. Somehow, I know that’s where they are, and sure enough, I can see someone looking over the parapet. A large hood keeps their face in shadow.

“Yasmin…” I begin, but even as she turns to follow my gaze, the figure vanishes. “Dammit.” It’s an office building, and I can see security gates through the glass frontage. Somehow I don’t think that I can just walk in and ask to be let up to the roof.

“I’ll see you later,” I tell Yasmin, then hurry away to find a hidden corner where I can do a quick rewind to change out of my Ninja outfit. I make my way around the block, looking for a way to get at the back of the office building. By the time I’ve found the access alley and worked out the right spot, I know it’s been too long. Even a full rewind would give the mystery person a good five minutes’ head start, so I don’t even try. I have a feeling this won’t be my last chance to meet them.

I get back to the apartment to find Kate newly returned from her pan-religious conference. It’s immediately clear that she’s missed me, and it’s some time later, over boxes of Chinese take-out that we get to talk properly. Holding back my news, I ask about her week first, curious about her experience.

“It was really interesting to hear so many different viewpoints,” Kate says, earnestly. “And, honestly, it was refreshing to hear so much talk about the positive contributions that religion can make to people’s lives, rather than all the hate that seems to get most of the airtime.”

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Kate looks away, suddenly hesitant. “My Dad was there.”

“What? Shit, are you okay? Did he say anything…” I trail off as she continues to avoid my gaze. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she says, softly. “I didn’t want you to worry. Not when you’ve been having nightmares again.”

“You don’t get to make that decision by yourself, Kate,” I snap, and she shrinks back.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” she mumbles.

“Well, I’m hurt now,” I tell her coldly. Finally, Kate turns back, and I see the look of anguish on her face.

“I’m sorry…” She bursts into tears, and my flush of anger vanishes as quickly as it flared up. I pull Kate into my arms, and hold her tight.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. You’ve been looking after me for years, and you were just trying to do that again.”

My soothing touches soon become caresses, which lead to gentle kisses as we reassure one another, and reaffirm our connection. That leads to more passionate kisses, which lead to make-up sex, which leads to the rest of our dinner getting cold. Somehow I can’t seem to bring myself to care about the last part.

“So, how did it go?” I prompt Kate as we lie comfortably entwined together.

“Hmmm?”

“With your Dad?”

“Oh. It was good. He was… different without Mom around. He hugged me, told me he loves me, and that he’s glad that I’m happy. He said that it’s not for him to judge me and that, ‘I know your heart, Kate, which means that I have no fear for your immortal soul.’”

“Well, it’s nice to know that at least one of your parents doesn’t believe that you’re going straight to hell.”

“It means more than I expected,” she admits.

“I’m glad you’ve reclaimed another part of your family.”

“Me too.” She smiles. “How were things with Yasmin?”

“Well, you were right about me needing someone here, I’m a little embarrassed to say, but she took good care of me – even if she doesn’t quite have your… touch.”

“I should hope not!” Kate says indignantly, making me laugh.

“She did wander around the apartment in nothing but a towel, though.”

“I’m sorry I missed that.” Off my incredulous look, she adds, “what? You think you’re the only one who finds other women hot?”

“Apparently not,” I mutter.

“Don’t worry, you’re the only one I want in my bed.”

“And I don’t think I could keep up with a second woman, even if I wanted to – which I do not.”

“A good thing, too; I don’t think either of us would like to face the wrath of Victoria.”

“No, indeed!” We both laugh.

“So, what else is new?”

“Well, it seems like there might be another superhero in town…”

* * *

It’s almost a fortnight before I find myself at another fire, and once again, the flames are not behaving themselves. This time, I take a moment to locate that tingling sensation just before I rewind – finding the hooded figure atop a taller building a couple of streets away. Memorizing the location, I get back to work.

This fire isn’t in the area covers by Yasmin’s station, so as soon as the last person is clear, I slip away from the scene under cover of rewind. I prowl around the target building until I find a fire escape, and head up. The rooftop is empty when I reach it – not unexpected – but just before I reach the limit of a rewind, I’m rewarded by the appearance of the mysterious stranger, hurrying backwards from the other side of the roof to the parapet overlooking the fire.

It takes a moment after I release time before I feel the tingle, stronger than before. The person across from me obviously feels it too, because they slowly turn towards me. Their face is still hidden in the deep shadows of an over-sized hood.

“How did you find me?” It’s a woman’s voice.

“I have my ways,” I tell her evasively. “Who are you?”

“Asks the person hiding behind a Ninja costume,” she retorts.

“Fair point.” After a moment’s hesitation, I unwrap the cloth covering my hair and face. “Hi,” I say, smiling.

The woman pulls back her hood. “Hi, yourself.” I just stare. There’s something about her that seems hauntingly familiar. I recognize her, but I can’t figure out why.

“Hello?” She says in an impatient voice.

And that’s when I remember where I’ve seen her face before.

“Rachel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Je ne regrette rien.
> 
> I'll update tags with the next chapter, which I'm hoping to have posted some time this decade.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy International Fanworks Day! My writing slump means that I've not felt up to taking part in the AO3 challenge this year, but I though I could at least get a chapter out for you.

###### Rachel

I’m just heading out for a shift at Olive Garden when my agent calls to let me know that I’ve landed the guest spot on _Central Precinct_. I’m almost tempted to ditch work and go celebrate, but there’s no point burning bridges. It’s only four episodes, and there’s no reason to expect it to lead to anything more. I’ll probably still need this job when I get back to LA.

I do sneak a bottle of wine home with me, though. Sitting on my bed with a large class, I allow myself to wonder if this will be my Big Break. It’s the first time I’ve booked a TV gig that was more than just a couple of lines as an extra, and for all I know it might be the last as well. Or, it might get me noticed by a casting director for the next pilot season – or even a movie role. A girl can dream.

Then there’s the fact that we’ll be shooting in Portland. A chance to explore one of the cities that might hold a key to my missing past. It’s a long shot, based on nothing more than being one of the stops the train made before they found me lying in a freight car at the LA terminus. I don’t even know for sure that I was on the train before it stopped – but then I don’t know _anything_ about my life prior to that day. Well, other than two names.

A couple of weeks later, I arrive for my first day on set, and it’s a very different experience from being an extra – I even get part of a trailer; I could get used to this. Sure, the pressure is an order of magnitude more, but I’ve always thrived under pressure, and self-confidence is never something I’ve had any shortage of. The director is great at helping me understand my character and find the performance he’s looking for, and the couple of times I really screw up, I at least manage to get a laugh out of it.

On my way out, a harassed-looking AD gives me a copy of the script for my second episode to take back to the hotel and start working on. A first read through, and I immediately find that the hint of sexual tension between my character and one of the leads has become decidedly less subtexty. Well, there were those unsubtle questions at the audition to check that I’m not a raging homophobe. Spoiler: I’m most definitely a homophile, especially when it comes to Lorena Gonzales.

It’s a couple of days before I get enough free time to explore the city. I’m honestly not sure what I’m looking for, so I just go for a wander around downtown, hoping that something will spark some sort of memory. Nothing does. I’m on the way back to the hotel when I hear the siren and see the smoke. Out of habit, I head in that direction, and find a fire escape I can climb to get a good view of the scene. I can see immediately that the fire crew have things under control, but that’s no reason for me to do nothing. Last thing I want is to hear on the news that there was some kid they didn’t get to in time.

Reaching out with my power, I force the flames back, make them shrink, put them out. I’ve no idea if what I’ve done actually made a different, but then I rarely do. I like to believe that I’ve saved a few lives since I learned to control this ability, but I guess I’ll never know for sure. At least I’m no longer in danger of fanning those flames instead – I _do_ know for sure that I nearly killed someone that way, back before I figured out how to tame my power.

Over the next few days, I continue to explore Portland, and continue to draw a blank. I do find a second fire to help out at, though, and this time I hear something interesting. As I make my way through the crowd of onlookers, I hear a couple of people talking about someone they call the ‘Portland Ninja.’ From the context, it sounds like this individual has _some_ sort of ability, but it’s unclear what. Hitting the Internet confirms my suspicions, but doesn’t really provide any more detail.

There have been any number of sightings of the Ninja over the past few years at fires, explosions, and any number of other minor disasters. She – she! – even foiled a bank robbery. I can’t help but wonder if there’s some sort of connection between us. I’ve never heard of any other real-life superheroes before, so to find one in a city that might be part of my history seems too much of a coincidence.

The third time I run into a fire is on an extended lunch break. I think that I catch a glimpse of someone in a ninja outfit talking to one of the firefighters. The strange buzzing sensation at the back of my skull as I look down on her certainly suggests that she’s the real deal. I’m frustrated that I can’t hang around and try to get closer to her, but I’m already running the risk of being late back to the studio.

The next couple of weeks are frustrating, as our paths singularly fail to cross. Time is running out, as we start filming the season finale, in which my character shares a heated kiss with Lorena’s, only to wind up dead just before we fade to black at the end of the episode. It’s not exactly unexpected, and I guess it’s better than dying for the benefit of some _man’s_ character development. Still, I’m disappointed that the writers have chosen to pull out the old ‘bury your gays’ trope. I though that _Central Precinct_ was better than that.

My increased screen-time means little opportunity for my extra-curricular activities, but I do end up with one day where I’m not on the call sheet before we shoot those final scenes. Once again, I find myself holding back a fire – it’s like there’s some sixth sense that leads me to them, without me even realizing it. And that’s where fate brings the Ninja and me together. I have a strange nagging feeling the entire time I’m taming the flames, and when I turn away, job done, she’s standing right there.

“How did you find me?” I call across the rooftop.

“I have my ways,” The Ninja says, all secretive, as she slowly moves towards me. “Who are you?”

“Asks the person hiding behind a Ninja costume,” I snark.

“Fair point,” she concedes, then unwraps the top of her outfit to reveal her face. Was _not_ expecting that. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” I reply. Not sure what else to do, I pull back the oversized hood which keeps my face in shadows. The Ninja stares at me. Just… stares. Does she recognize me? From my modeling, or one of my walk-on parts? Seems unlikely. And now her staring is getting rude. “Hello?” I say, pointedly.

It’s like a lightbulb goes on above her head. “Rachel?”

That catches me off guard. “How do you know my name? Where have you seen me? Have we met?”

“No, we’ve never met, but I recognize you from pictures that Chloe had.”

_That_ rocks me to my core. The one other name from my past. The mystery woman that my earlier self wrote a tear-stained letter to. Someone I clearly cared deeply for, even as I told her about some guy I was with. It seems I never worked up the nerve to tell her the truth.

“You know Chloe?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

“She was my best friend when we were kids, back before you knew her. And then, after you were gone, and I met her again, we were almost something more, but…” The Ninja trails off, her distress obvious, but I have to know.

“But what?” I ask, going over to her.

“But she’s dead.” Her voice is heavy with sadness, paired with a hefty dose of guilt. The words hit me like a body blow. Deep down, I’ve always believed that finding Chloe was the key to unlocking my past, and now… 

“I’m sorry.” I say, more to break the silence than anything else.

“Thanks Rachel, but… you were as close to her as I was. What happened to you? I _saw_ your…” She shakes her head, clearly not inclined to finish that thought.

“I have no idea! My first memory is waking up in a hospital in Los Angeles. I’d been found delirious in a freight train, apparently recovering from some massive drug overdose. My life before that is a complete blank.”

“Well, fuck. That would certainly explain it.” Her brows furrow. “How did you know about Chloe, then?”

“The one thing they found on me – other than my clothes – was a letter from Rachel to Chloe. It matches my handwriting, so it’s also the only reason I know my own name.”

“Speaking of names, I should introduce myself.” She holds out her hand. “Max, Max Caulfield.”

“Rachel Doe,” I say, shaking it.

Max gives me an odd smile. “Rachel _Amber_.”

I can’t help it. My hand flies up to cover my mouth. It’s such a small thing – just two syllables – but it’s a name, and it’s mine.

“I’m sorry I can’t really tell you much more about yourself than that, but…” a slow smile, “but I think I know someone who can.” She pulls out her phone, and makes a call. “Hey, it’s me. Quick question: when’s Vic going to be in town next? She is? Would it be okay if I came over. Right now; there’s someone I need her to meet. Okay, thanks, I’ll see you soon.” She hangs up. “Shit, forgot to check if you’re busy.”

“I’m not, as it happens.”

“Cool.” Max starts stripping off the rest of her Ninja outfit, which is clearly just pulled on over her regular clothes. “Do you have a set of wheels? I’d offer you a ride, but I don’t have my spare crash helmet with me.” She stuffs the costume into her backpack and pulls it back on.

“I do, and I’m parked just around the corner.”

“Then let’s get going.”

It takes about twenty minutes of me following Max’s motorbike across town before we pull up in a tree-lined suburban street. She leads me down to the basement apartment in a large townhouse, knocks on the door, and then heads right in. There are two women sat on the couch, looking very cozy together. One of them immediately jumps up to greet Max; the other stares at me. Her eyes narrow for a moment, then she goes white as a sheet.

“Rachel?”

Instinctively, I start towards her. “Omigod it _is_ you. Come here!” Slightly bemused, I go over to her; she grabs my hands and pulls me down into an awkward embrace. I give her a few moments before I wriggle free. “Sorry I can’t get up to hug you properly, but…” she gestures at a wheelchair parked next to the couch.

“Um. No problem.” I’m not sure what to say. I have no idea who this woman is, but clearly she knows me – the old me.

“What the fuck happened to you, Rach? Where have you been since Blackwell? Max said you were dead, but that’s clearly bullshit…” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Max madly making a silencing gesture, but it’s a bit late for that.

“Amnesia,” I tell her, then give her the same potted history I told Max.

“Fucking Mark and Nathan,” she mutters when I’m done. “I am _so_ sorry. I’m Victoria Chase, your high school rival. Although, in hindsight, that was mostly aspirational on my part.”

“So, what, I was the queen bee?” And then my brain finally catches up. “Wait… Max said I was _dead?_ ” I turn to look at her.

“Okay, fine, I was trying to figure out how to tell you, but…” She shakes her head. “Let’s get this over with before Kate gets here. I don’t want my wife to have to relive this. So we all – except Yasmin here – went to high school at Blackwell Academy. Kate and I never met you because we were only there for a special senior year program they ran.”

“Anyway, it turns out that the famous photography teacher they’d hired was actually a grade-A creep who liked to drug teenage girls and take pictures of them while the were unconscious, or semi-conscious. He also recruited one of his rich kid students, took advantage of his poor mental health, and manipulated him into becoming his apprentice – as well as building an underground hideout for them. Long story short, they did this to a whole bunch of young women, including Kate. Tried to do it to Chloe, but she managed to get away, and they were planning to do it to Victoria.”

“What’s this got to do with me?” I ask, but I already know what the answer is going to be.

“They came after you, too, but they fucked up the dosage or something.”

“And then they dumped me on a train, and I wound up in LA with no memory of my earlier life,” I conclude. “That answers a lot of questions – but not the one I asked you.”

“Fine. So, you know how you can manipulate fire?” I open my mouth to object. “Don’t try to deny it; Yasmin and I have seen what you can do.” I take another look at the darker-skinned woman, and realize that I recognize her – one of the firefighters I’ve seen a few times. Accepting defeat, I simply nod. “Well, I can manipulate time.”

“That’s im…” I begin, then realize what I’m saying. “No more impossible than what I do, I guess.”

“Exactly. For me, all this started in October ’13, when I saw Chloe get shot – and discovered that I could rewind time. She was the only person still trying to find out what had happened to you, and over the next few days we finally pieced it together, and that led us to the local junkyard – and a shallow grave.”

“But… I’m not Schrödinger’s cat; I can’t be both in the grave _and_ here.”

“I know, but after that… things really went to shit. I ended up doing a long of crazy time-jumping – something I can’t do any more. There was only one jump I ever made to before you were taken, but it was _years_ before. The only explanation I can think of is that there’s some butterfly effect thing going on that means somehow things played out very slightly differently in whatever timeline I was in when we found your grave, and the one we’re in now. I’m just glad that this change is clearly for the better.”

“That… is a lot for me to unpack.” It’s also a stark reminder that there are worse thing than not knowing who I am. I want to ask more, want to find out what happened to Chloe, but the haunted look on Max’s face tells me that now isn’t the time. And perhaps I need to process what happened to me first.

Before I can decide what to do next, there’s a knock at the door. It opens to reveal a blonde woman carrying two large bags of what look like Chinese take-out. “Hey, I brought food, but nobody gets any until you tell me what the heck is going on. Max’s text was very mysterious, and…”

Her voice trails off, to be followed by the all-too-familiar by now, “Rachel?”


End file.
